Voldemort's Third War
by dukeofpoorplanning
Summary: <html><head></head>It's the school year after Voldemort's final defeat, and all is not yet well. Harry is forced to conduct a war against one of Voldemort's top lieutenants while simultaneously dealing with a bad break-up, a broken friendship, and a transfer student who has become his only hope of keeping his many fangirls at bay. Ginny bashing. No Ron/Molly bashing. On hiatus.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Well, here it is. My first piece of fanfiction. Sort of, anyways. I have another story that I'm working on, but it's kind of a massive undertaking, so I'm taking a break to work on something less stressful. Fair warnings: this story contains Ginny bashing, but not general Weasley bashing. Hermione also does some questionable things prior to the start of the story, but it's actually somewhat in-character for her. There's a fairly long theory explaining how. To find it, search "HPB love potion theory," and it should be the first thing that comes up.**

****Also, I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter.****

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><p>As easy as Harry found it to disagree with most of what his immature godfather had said in life, he couldn't deny one thing: messing with people's heads was fun. One of the ways he did this was by purchasing ten sets of an identical outfit (black jeans and sneakers, a red and gold hoodie, and a white short sleeved t-shirt) and wearing a different set every day.<p>

Most of the population of Hogwarts castle was utterly convinced that he never changed his clothes, and were baffled by how he managed to otherwise maintain a respectable standard of hygiene despite this. The only people who knew (Harry's dorm mates and some of the staff) were all sworn to secrecy, and Harry took great joy in confusing and annoying his classmates this way.

Probably the best part was that, despite them all believing him to never change clothes (_ever_) the people of the magical world still trusted him, an eighteen-year-old with a famously poor temper, to conduct a war.

Well, war might have been too strong a word. Mostly, it was just a series of skirmishes with the ragtag remnants of Voldemort's forces under the less-than-capable command of Rabastan Lestrange. Which was funny, really. The man was a competent enough duelist, but his concept of strategy boiled down to sending wave after wave of disposable foot soldiers at his target until they surrendered or died. It was lucky for him that these disposable foot soldiers were a bit dim.

It was also lucky for him that Voldemort had, in his distinctly finite wisdom, elected to recruit with the concept of quantity over quality. He had about three-hundred wizards who used to be snatchers under Voldemorts command, but none of the other proper death eaters were involved. They all believed, correctly, that life working under Rabastan Lestrange was as difficult, and a good deal less rewarding, than life working under Lord Voldemort.

And, as Harry was deemed the most suitable person to deal with this new threat (for some reason), he was forced to spend a good deal of his time in meetings like the one he currently found himself in. Leaning against the wall of the headmaster's office, Harry was deep in conversation with the portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Dumbledore made it a point to ask the opinions of the other portraits, all whom Harry and Snape studiously ignored.

"I really don't see why _I_ need to be in charge here," Harry said evenly. "I'm not qualified." Snape sneered at him, though Harry pretended not to notice.

"I agree," he cut in. "Perhaps we could find someone a tad more . . . focused?" Harry had indeed let his mind wander several times over the course of the morning's conference; he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how his relationship with Ginny had ended.

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say something, but Harry beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, Snape. I didn't realise that you had some sort of claim on self pity born of unrequited love." Snape glared, Dumbledore gulped, and Harry smirked. "What was it you said a few years ago, Professor?" Harry asked, turning to Dumbledore's portrait. "Something about feeling 'love's keen sting?' I'd say we've all felt that."

Dumbledore frowned and Snape's glower grew noticeably. Still Harry smirked at them. Pushing himself off the wall, he took a few steps forward and put his left hand on his hip. "Granted, I didn't fall for a dark wizard, and the woman I loved didn't marry and have a son with my worst enemy," Harry knew that he was being overly harsh, that he was dragging Dumbledore's past into an argument that he had nothing to do with, but that didn't stop him.

"Even so," he plowed on ruthlessly, "I'd say I had a worse break-up than most." Harry was extremely glad that McGonagall wasn't present for this meeting, not that she ever showed up for them. He didn't think she would approve of the way he was speaking to her predecessors.

A strained silence followed Harry's words, as Dumbledore wasn't quite sure how to respond and Snape had told Harry that he was an arrogant prat far too often for any further repetitions to be necessary. Eventually, Dumbledore spoke up.

"Well then, Harry," he began somewhat awkwardly, "if there is nothing else about the war-"

"There isn't" Harry and Snape said in unison, though neither of them acknowledged it.

Dumbledore smiled slightly before continuing. "There is something else I wished to discuss with you." Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for Dumbledore to continue. "As Minerva may have mentioned to you, we are taking a seventh year transfer student."

"Yeah, Someone Or Other Price. What about her?"

"Aderyn Gwyneth Price, Harry. Minerva wishes you to show her around the school."

"Why me?" Harry asked suspiciously. He knew that where Dumbledore was concerned, there was rarely an innocent reason for him to be involved in anything. The man normally had numerous ulterior motives for most of his actions, and Harry had found that they were rarely to his benefit.

"My dear boy," Dumbledore smiled at him, "who else could? She will arrive in three days, and the term will not start until a week after that. Do you know of anyone else who could do it in your stead?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. _He _had _to have a good reason, didn't he?_ "Fine. I'm probably the best man for the job anyway. Just so long as she isn't some fan girl. She isn't, is she?" Harry asked, suddenly apprehensive. It was moments like this, when he was nervous and not entirely sure what to do, that he acted more like his old self. Like he used to act before he found out about Ginny's manipulations.

"I make no promises," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling madly.

Harry just sighed and turned around to leave. Raising a hand over his shoulder in farewell, he walked out of the office, thinking about his last conversation with Hermione.

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><p>Harry had been almost offensively cheerful after the war ended. It had taken almost a week for him to calm down to the point where he no longer started grinning like an idiot for no apparent reason. It probably would have taken longer but for a string of revelations for which he hadn't been entirely prepared.<p>

The first of these was that Ginny was pregnant with a child she claimed was his. Despite the fact that they had never slept together. Harry found this somewhat suspicious.

The second was that Ginny had spent much of the year, until she left school for the Easter holidays and was forced to stay home afterwards, sleeping with most any male whom she could be reasonably sure wouldn't tell Harry. What she hadn't counted on was Harry being sufficiently terrifying (after having killed Lord Voldemort, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord) that several of them confessed to him, begging forgiveness.

This, in turn, led the rest of them to confess as well, seemingly under the impression that Harry would be less angry with them if he found out from them directly. The full list comprised some twenty-seven boys, none of whom knew about any of the others. Some notable examples included Seamus Finnegan, Blaise Zabini, Zachariah Smith, all of the sixth year Slytherin boys, most of the fifth year Slytherin boys, and a string of seventh year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw boys. Those were just the ones she met regularly; Harry had to wonder how exactly she managed to keep them all secret from each other.

This, in and of itself, never bothered Harry. Or at least, he didn't resent Ginny for it. He had told her at the end of his sixth year that the two of them couldn't be together, and he had done it with the full understanding that she might, and probably would, pursue relationships with other people. He had no right or reason to expect her to wait for him. If anything, he was indignant on behalf of the boys on whom she _had_ been cheating; a list that he didn't consider himself to be on.

What did bother him, however, was that she had continued these arrangements, all twenty-seven of them, after getting back together with Harry after Voldemort was killed. Harry could only conclude that she had sex so often that she didn't remember that it had never been with him.

It was within a week of this incident that he realised that any attraction he had ever had to Ginny disappeared all at once. It was another week after _that_ that the third revelation, the worst of all of them, struck him.

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><p>It was a very nervous Hermione that asked Harry for a private word the Thursday after he had found himself no longer attracted to Ginny. Shrugging, he followed her from the Gryffindor common room and into an empty classroom. Closing the door behind him, he saw Hermione fidgeting horribly, looking rather as she had done before their OWLs.<p>

She took a deep breath and began talking very fast. "Harry, do you remember how I gave some relationship advice to . . . Ginny?" Hermione hesitated slightly before saying Ginny's name, which was probably wise. The mere mention of her was enough to drive Harry into a stony silence liable to last until he woke up the next morning.

Harry tensed slightly but nodded. "Well, that wasn't the only thing I did to bring you two together." Harry tensed further, which Hermione seemed to notice, because she started hastily apologising. "Oh, Harry, please don't be mad at me! I really thought the two of you were good for each other! I just wanted to play matchmaker for you."

Harry sighed. "There's no reason to be so nervous, Hermione. I don't blame you for what she did, and I don't blame you for trying to get us together. Actually," he smiled genuinely at her, "I'm kind of touched that you did. It didn't work out, obviously, but you couldn't've known that."

Hermione's eyes started glistening with what Harry assumed were tears of relief, and he pulled her into a hug, which she returned fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Harry!" she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Don't apologise. You were only trying to help."

After a few minutes of this, when Hermione had managed to calm herself, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "There's more, though, Harry." It was barely more than a whisper, but Harry heard her perfectly.

"What is it, Hermione?"

She took a deep breath to compose herself. "Do you remember when it was that you first started feeling attracted to Ginny?" Harry nodded. "Do you remember what you felt like when you saw her?" Again, Harry nodded, growing more confused by the minute. "Well . . . that wasn't . . . entirely . . . you."

Something about her tone was really beginning to worry Harry. "Hermione? You aren't making sense. What do you mean 'it wasn't entirely me?'" Hermione began to fidget again, which Harry took as a bad sign. "Are you saying that somebody was giving me a love potion or something?" Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. "That's it, isn't it? Somebody was spiking my drinks with love potion!"

Hermione suddenly looked up at Harry, eyes moist again, and shouted "I was only trying to help you both!"

Harry hadn't spoken to Hermione since.

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><p><strong>AN: There's chapter one done! This is kind of exciting, actually. R&amp;R please; all (constructive) criticism is more than welcome. Thanks for reading! Duke out!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter.**

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><p>"Y'know," Harry called to the room at large, "for a safe house, this isn't very safe."<p>

He had just spent the last twenty minutes single-handedly dueling a group of around two dozen snatcher-turned-death-eaters, and by the end of it, he was one of only four people still conscious. He had hit most of the snatchers with stunners, and the three he hadn't were all bound, disarmed, and gagged.

"Hrrmm grrff!" replied one such fellow. Harry gave him a sardonic smile before waving his wand in an arc over his head. All of the snatchers were pulled into the center of the room, where Harry conjured a large, ornate cage for them. After levitating all of them through the door, he closed it and tapped the cage with his wand.

"_Portus_" her muttered, turning the cage into a massive portkey. Harry stood back to admire his work. He frowned for a moment, then gave his wand a small flick, causing a few cosmetic changes to the cage. Finally satisfied, he tapped the cage again to activate it as a portkey and send the snatchers on their way. Harry grinned to himself as he walked to the edge of the anti-apparition wards the snatchers had set up. _Can't wait to see tomorrow's _prophet.

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><p>Ron Weasley was roaring with laughter as he read the morning's edition of the <em>Prophet<em>. His mother shot him a glare, which he completely failed to notice, and continued to drink her tea. After several minutes of Ron's uproarious laughter, Mrs Weasley gave into the inevitable.

"What are you laughing at, Ron?" she asked tiredly. Ron, rather than respond, simply handed her a copy of the day's paper.

_Two Dozen More Arrests!_

_Yesterday at approximately 5:38 pm, a giant cage filled with two dozen confirmed snatchers was sent, via portkey, to the DMLE. The two dozen men have already been questioned under veritaserum, and they all told the same story:_

_Sometime in between 5:10 and 5:15, Harry Potter arrived in their safe house and dueled them into submission. All 25 men agreed that Potter had acted alone. When contacted by Gawain Robards, the current head of the DMLE, Potter had this to say:_

"_I reckon this is some of my best work yet. You see the cage?" One assumes that Potter was referring to the rather intricate design gilded into the side of the bottom of the cage._

_The design, which was quite detailed, depicted former ministry employee, Dolores Umbridge, being attacked by a group of enraged house elves._

"That's really not funny, Ron," she chided him.

"It's not the picture I'm laughing at! It's that he _actually_ did that. He seriously sent the ministry a bunch of criminals along with a picture of the worst ministry witch ever being attacked by _house elves!_"

Mrs Weasley, far from sharing her son's mirth, pursed her lips. "Have you . . . spoken to Harry at all lately, Ron?"

"Nope," he replied, sobering up. "Harry hasn't really been in contact with anyone since school ended."

It was rather unfortunate that Ginny chose that exact moment to wander downstairs, causing both Ron and Mrs Weasley to stiffen. Ginny kept her head down as she made, ate, and cleaned up after her own breakfast. When she had finally returned to her room, Mrs Weasley turned to Ron and asked, as though nothing had happened, "aren't you worried about him?"

Ron, who had grown quite accustomed to conversations stopping whenever Ginny entered a room until she left it, didn't need to ask what his mother meant. "Naw," he replied dismissively. "You know Harry. There's no point worrying about someone like him. He'll ask for help when he's ready for it. Until then, let's just let him deal with it in his own way."

Mrs Weasley sighed, but managed a small smile. "You're right. I just wish . . ."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Ron said, rather tentatively, "I know, mum."

They sat there together in silence for a moment before she asked the question that had been bothering her since she had heard about what happened. "Why? I thought she really cared for Harry."

Ron frowned, but his voice was even. "So did I. We all did. I thought Hermione cared about him, too . . ."

"I know we haven't talked much about it-"

"It's fine, mum. _Really_," he added, seeing her incredulous look. "Seriously, mum. We weren't together that long. It's what she did to Harry that really throws me."

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips again, though she didn't say anything. In truth, she rather felt that there was nothing _to_ say.

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><p>"I arrested two dozen snatchers last night. None of them now where Lestrange is."<p>

Harry found himself, once again, in the headmaster's office, dealing with two very irritating portraits. "Was there any information they _did_ have?" Dumbledore asked.

"I left the questioning to the ministry," Harry replied shortly.

"Oh, now _there's_ a surprise," Snape muttered.

Harry glared at him. "I gave Robards a list of questions to ask any snatcher brought in under veritaserum. Or did you forget that that's how we've gotten most of our intel?"

Snape, as he usually did when Harry made a point he couldn't reasonably contest, sat in sullen silence. Dumbledore waited a moment to ensure that they were indeed done before addressing Harry again.

"Was there anything else, Harry?"

"Yeah, actually," he replied, surprising both of them. "It's annoying having to take them all out without killing any of them."

Dumbledore, who had no answer to that, simply waited a moment to see if Harry had anything else to say before dismissing him.

"Oh, and Harry?" Dumbledore called after him, standing as he did so. Harry stopped, his hand a few inches from the knob, but didn't turn or speak. "You're to meet-"

"I know, professor. I'm meeting Price in the entry hall at noon. I haven't forgotten." Dumbledore nodded, not that Harry noticed, and resumed his seat.

_I'm beginning to think he hasn't realised he isn't still headmaster, yet._

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><p>At 11;45, Harry was already waiting in the entrance hall for his charge to arrive. He knew that, as it had been over a month since he had actually spoken to anyone his own age, or spoken about anything other than classes or the war for that matter, he should probably at least try to make friends with her.<p>

Not to mention the fact that she was going into a new school where she didn't know anyone, where the student body (as Harry could attest) could be completely awful, where a war was being unofficially run from the headmaster's office. Harry sighed as he realised that Hogwarts only got weirder with each passing year.

When the doors finally creaked open, Harry was surprised to find that a young woman whom he could only assume was his charge was being escorted to the castle by none other than the school's caretaker, Argus Filch. Deciding it would be best to save her from him sooner rather than later, Harry hurried up to them and said "thanks, Filch. I'll take it from here."

Filch grunted in acknowledgement before shuffling off, no doubt going to meet Madam Pince for some sort of demented rendezvous.

Harry took a second to asses the girl standing before him. She was a few inches shorter than him, which, Harry estimated, put her somewhere around 5'7 or 5'8. She was dressed, like him, in muggle clothing: wearing a pair of jeans and a white blouse. Her hair, just a few shades too dark to be called blond, fell just shy of her waist, which struck Harry as a tad impractical.

The most striking thing about her, though, was her eyes. They were a deep blue, like a pair of sapphires, and Harry was shocked to find himself staring at them in fascination.

Tearing his eyes away from hers, he focused on what she was saying. "-for saving me. He wouldn't shut up about how great 'the old punishments' were."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry said, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't know they were sending him to collect you."

"So is he always like that?" she asked Harry.

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm pretty sure the only reason they haven't sacked him yet is that he and the librarian have a thing for each other." The girl wrinkled her nose, and they both burst out laughing.

"Anyways," Harry said, still grinning, "You probably know already, but I'm Harry Potter." He held out his hand, which she took immediately.

"Aderyn Price," she replied.

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><p><strong>AN: OMG's! I gots a reviews! Sorry this chapter is so short; I normally hate reading ridiculously short chapters like this, but I ended it where I felt I needed to end it. Starting with chapter three, I promise they'll start being longer. Thanks for reading! Duke out!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter.**

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><p>"Please tell me you play quidditch," Harry begged. He had spent the past three hours showing Aderyn around the castle, and she had requested a tour of the grounds for some fresh air. Harry had, of course, immediately thought of his quidditch team when he heard this.<p>

Aderyn grinned at him. "I saw your pitch when Filch was bringing me in. The one at my old school is _way_ smaller. Made it kinda boring, actually."

"So you _do_ play, then?" Harry, who had been enjoying Aderyn's company a good deal more than he had expected, found himself inordinately pleased at the news. "What's your position?"

"Chaser, but I can play seeker, too."

Harry had to refrain from doing a victory dance. A chaser! A _chaser!_ "That does it! You're going to Gryffindor, no matter what I have to do to make it happen."

Aderyn pouted at him. "What if I wanna be in Slytherin, though?" she asked, with surprisingly convincing innocence.

Harry snorted. "I'm not above bribing you, if I have to."

Aderyn adopted a calculating look. "And what exactly do _you_ have that _I_ want?"

"Besides social power and money?"

"Well, I suppose those help."

By now, they had reached the quidditch pitch, and Harry was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Seriously, though, I need some serious help with the team this year. There weren't any games last year, one of my chasers graduated, another can't play because she's pregnant, and neither of my beaters are any better than 'decent.'"

"Back up a sec, there, Harry. One of your chasers is pregnant?"

Harry frowned, but replied all the same. "My ex-girlfriend," he said distastefully.

"And now she's pregnant?"

"Yep. Hence the 'ex.'"

"I take it you and she never . . ."

"No, although she seemed to think that we did. Don't ask," he added hastily, seeing the confused look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to pry or anything. It's just kinda . . ."

"Don't worry, I get it. Y'know, I've been acting all weird since we broke up."

"That's understandable," Aderyn cut in.

Harry smiled at her briefly and went on. "But I've been feeling better today. It's been fun having you around, Aderyn."

Harry noticed, or _thought_ he noticed, her blush slightly, but he didn't comment. Glancing at his watch, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "We need to meet McGonagall in fifteen minutes! C'mon!" He grabbed her wrist and sprinted towards the castle.

Aderyn gave a few token protests about being perfectly capable of running herself, but decided to just let Harry do his thing. And it was lucky she did, because the path he took the the headmaster's office defied all logic. Harry ran through two solid walls, took six doors hidden by tapestries, and, at one point, jumped through a painting of a hallway, only to end up in the hallway shown in the painting.

By the time they reached McGonagall's office, both were breathing heavily and sweating slightly. Harry was just glad that the inside of the castle was always cool, even in the middle of summer. Since they had only a minute until they were expected, Harry gave the password to McGonagall's office ("gemino!") and the two of them were left to catch their breath as the spiral staircase carried them both up.

"Ah, Mr Potter, Ms Price. Please, sit." When they were both seated and had exchanged pleasantries, McGonagall began properly. "Now then, onto business: Ms Price, you will need to be sorted today; that way you be in your house dormitory before term starts. Mr Potter here can show you to any of the common rooms. I take it," she turned her attention to Harry, "that you _do_ know where all of them are?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And you are also aware that you _shouldn't_ know where any common rooms are located save your own?"

Harry grinned and said again, "yes, Professor."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows slightly, which Harry knew from experience was as close to a laugh as he was going to get, and turned back to Aderyn. "Now then, Ms Price. If you could put on this hat?"

Aderyn took what Harry knew to be the sorting hat (though Aderyn didn't; Harry had stubbornly refused to tell her how the sorting worked) and, after shooting Harry a confused look, put it on.

Judging by the look on her face, she hadn't been expecting the hat to strike up a mental conversation with her.

After about a minute of what Harry could only assume was a silent argument, the hat called out "Gryffindor!" though Harry noticed that it was a good deal quieter than usual, for which he was grateful. Considering that it didn't have vocal cords, the thing was surprisingly loud when it wanted to be.

"Looks like we got one of those chasers," Harry said happily. McGonagall gave a slight smile, and Harry wondered whether she would still be supporting Gryffindor during quidditch games. _Probably not, knowing her._

"Well, that's sorted," McGonagall said. Harry and Aderyn both grinned at the unintentional joke. "Now then, if you don't mind, Ms Price, I'd like to borrow Mr Potter for a moment."

"I'll meet you outside, then?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, don't be too long. Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall waved her thanks away and turned her attention to Harry. "I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you, Harry. Firstly, I'd like to offer you a formal position here at the school." Harry raised his eyebrows but didn't speak.

"It's no secret that the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts at this school has been . . . dissatisfactory-" Harry snorted "-and I was rather hoping that you could help solve this problem."

"Are you asking me to teach the classes, Professor?"

"Not at all, though I suppose it's something similar. You remember your club during your fifth year?" Harry nodded. "I'd like you to do something similar this year, only we will treat it as a class, rather than a club. We can work out the logistics later, but for right now we can offer you the position of Assistant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Again, we can discuss what that means later. For now, just know that you'll be working closely with this year's Defense Professor, so be ready for that."

"Have you found someone, then, Professor?" Harry asked. He had been wondering who would teach Defense all summer.

"Not yet, unfortunately. Actually, perhaps you could help with that? We already have an extensive list of applicants; would you be willing to go through and interview them?"

"Of course, Professor. If I'm going to be working with them, I'd at least like to help choose who teaches."

"Excellent. Now, one last thing: Albus has confided in me your distaste for, as you call them, 'fangirls?'"

"Is the next part of this conversation going to be really uncomfortable, Professor?"

"I'm afraid so," she replied, though she gave a small smile.

"Yes, well, they were pretty bad two years ago, but now that I've gone from 'The Boy Who Lived' to 'The Man Who Killed?' _And_ after what happened with Ginny, I'm worried some of them will do something drastic."

"How so?"

"Two years ago, at least four girls tried to slip me love potions over the course of three hours."

"Ah," was all she said as they both thought back to the time when Ron had accidentally eaten several Chocolate Cauldrons spiked with love potion. "At any rate," she said, pulling Harry out of his dark thoughts, "Horace has developed this," she held out a small phial for him, which he took and eyed curiously. "It is a general antidote to love potions," she said in answer to his unasked question.

Harry's eyes lit up at this. "_Brilliant!_ I'll have to thank him for this tonight at dinner."

McGonagall gave a small smile. "Quite. Just give that bottle to someone you trust with the instruction to make you drink it if they ever think that you have been given a love potion. It won't expire, and he has made several doses, so you should be perfectly fine for the rest of the year."

She dismissed him several minutes later, having asked him to think about how to operate the new iteration of the DA, and he went downstairs to meet Aderyn.

"What was that about?" she asked as they set off again, though neither had a direction in mind.

"She offered to let me teach a class," Harry shrugged. "More importantly, though, she gave me _this!_"

Aderyn took a moment to decide whether or not to humor him before asking "what's in the bottle, then?"

Harry grinned maniacally. "A love potion cure-all. Professor Slughorn made it for me. I'm supposed to give it to someone I trust and have them make me drink it if they think I've ever been given a love potion."

"Why would anyone need something like that?"

"You might just be surprised by how many love potions I've managed to avoid over the past two years." _And at how many I _haven't, Harry thought bitterly. "Could _you_ do that for me?"

"_Me_?" she asked, coming to a complete stop.

"Yeah, the only other people I'd trust with this are kinda spacey. Who's to say if they'd really notice?"

"But- but we just met _today_? Why would you trust me with something this important?"

"Seems like a good idea," Harry replied. "If you don't want to-"

"I'll do it!" she said hastily. "I'm just not sure why you'd let me."

Harry just shrugged and turned away. It was only then that he realised where they were. "Oh! My office is just a few doors down from here. Wanna go check it out?"

Aderyn followed without thinking, asking as she did, "You've got an office?"

"Like I said, McGonagall is letting me teach a class. The office comes with the job."

"What exactly are you teaching? And what does that make you in the school?"

"Technically, I'm an assistant professor. I'm also gonna be head boy and quidditch captain."

"Can you do all that?" Aderyn asked.

"Nope," Harry replied casually, pulling open the door to his new office as he did so. The room inside was actually larger than he had expected: it had a desk slightly in front of the wall opposite the door with a straight-backed chair behind it. There were two other, smaller though more comfortable-looking, chairs in front of the desk, and a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window directly behind it. Bookshelves lined the wall on the left while the one on the right had a large fireplace (built into the wall so that it wouldn't take away from the available floor space), about three quarters of the way down the room from the window.

The floor was covered in a deep blue carpet, which was surprisingly plush, and the walls had red wallpaper with gold trim. In front of the fireplace, there was a couch, long enough for three people to sit comfortably, with an armchair halfway between the couch and the wall, facing perpendicular to both. Halfway between the couch and fireplace, there was a low coffee table, perfectly matched to the couch's length.

All of the furniture was made of mahogany, which complimented the colour scheme quite well, except for the couch and chairs. The chair behind the desk was made of what appeared to be ebony while the two facing it looked to be ivory. The couch and armchair were both made of whatever couches and armchairs are made of, both of them crimson in colour.

"Wow," Harry muttered.

"Some office," Aderyn agreed.

Snapping himself from his daze, Harry sat down on the couch and motioned for Aderyn to do so as well. "So," he began, "I'm teaching defense next year-"

"They're letting a student teach _defense?!_ Err, no offense."

Harry grinned at her. "Well, I'm not really teaching defense. More like an optional class to supplement the main course. The actual defense class will teach students about a whole bunch of stuff, but I'll only be teaching dueling, so that should make it a lot easier.

"Either way, though, I can't teach the class, help grade stuff for the _real_ defense professor, be head boy, _and _captain the quidditch team." Harry thought for a moment. "Have I told you about Ron?"

"You mentioned him a few times, why?"

"Looks like we'll be busy for the rest of the day," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear as he said it. "First, let's get back down to the pitch. We can do a quick, unofficial, trial for you, then we'll head back here. We'll floo over to Ron's, I'll introduce you, and I'll offer him the captaincy. Then we'll floo back here and have dinner with the staff.

"Sound alright?"

Aderyn considered for a moment before, "yeah, alright then. We'll have to go upstairs to get our brooms first, though."

One very successful trial later, Harry and Aderyn were back in Harry's office, preparing to head over to The Burrow. Harry turned to Aderyn and grinned. "Ready to meet my family?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Three chapters in a day? Boo yah! Just try not to get <em>too<em> used to it; I'll be starting work pretty soon, and I won't be able to sit down for five hours and write continuously, as much as I'd love to.**** Also, anyone wondering why Aderyn says that they need to go upstairs, her stuff was moved up to the Gryffindor dorms by a house elf when she was sorted, and Harry already told her roughly where all the common rooms were****. Regardless, thanks for reading! Duke out!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Harry threw a pinch of floo powder (there had been a small pouch of it on the mantle) into the fireplace, stuck his head in, and called "the Burrow!"<p>

Luckily for him, Mrs Weasley, who had been working on dinner, was the only one on the first floor, which held a combined kitchen and dining room, as well as the living room where the fireplace was located. Hearing something that she assumed was the floo in the living room, she left her charmed cooking utensils to their own devices to investigate.

"Oh, hello, Mrs Weasley!" Harry called brightly, nearly giving the poor woman a heart attack. He seemed to notice, for he immediately apologised. "Sorry! I was just wondering if I could floo over? I have to talk to Ron, and there's someone I'd like you both," the fact that Ginny was evidently not invited was by no means lost on Mrs Weasley, "to meet."

"Of course, Harry dear. Just come over and make yourselves at home. I'll go upstairs and get Ron."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

A few minutes later, Harry, Aderyn, Ron, and Mrs Weasley had all been introduced to each other and were seated comfortably.

"So what's up Harry? You just drop by for a cup of tea?" Ron asked eagerly.

"If you're hoping for news about the war," Ron grinned, remembering Harry's stunt with the cage, "I'm going to have to disappoint you. The good news is, it's something way better. How'd you like to be quidditch captain?"

"Seriously? I'd love to! What about you, though?"

"Seriously, mate. I'm gonna be pretty busy next year, anyway. That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about: McGonagall asked me to start the DA up again this year, but I don't know what to do with it yet. Aderyn and I've talked about it a bit, and McGonagall said a few things about it, but I think it's mostly up to me to decide."

"Are you asking for help running it?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Not exactly, no. What I really need now is ideas about _how_ to run it. Some logistical stuff, but mostly the curriculum. Do you think that you guys could all give it some thought over the next few days?"

"Of course, Harry," Mrs Weasley replied while Ron chimed in with "We'll take care of it, mate."

Harry thanked them and the four spent some time chatting before Harry and Aderyn had to return to the castle for dinner. Throughout the meal, Aderyn was impressed with the way Harry and the professors spoke with each other. They all seemed to treat him like an equal, and Harry called a few of them (by their invitation, he later told her) by their first names.

After dinner, Harry and Aderyn went back to the Gryffindor common room, and Harry found himself once again pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he felt with her.

"I'm serious!" he told her as they climbed a staircase up to the third floor. "My godfather was a wanted criminal."

"No he wasn't," Aderyn replied, exasperated.

"Yeah, he was," Harry said, sounding almost offended. Like having a criminal for a godfather was something to be _proud_ of. "Well, he _was_ innocent, but everyone thought he was guilty."

That _explains it,_ Aderyn thought. "So what was he accused of?"

"Betraying my parents to Voldemort and murdering a wizard and twelve muggles with a single curse," he replied casually. It wasn't until he noticed that Aderyn had stopped walking that he realised how that must have sounded. "Er, like I said, though, he was innocent."

"That's not really my issue," she said. She sounded almost . . . faint? "How can you be so casual about that?"

"Well," Harry said, running a hand through his hair uncomfortably, "I met the man who actually did it. I learned the truth and I told the world when it was ready to listen. I guess I've just moved on from it? When you live my life, you get used to it."

Aderyn began walking again and took Harry's hand, seemingly without thinking. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, still feeling somewhat awkward, but giving her hand a small squeeze regardless. "Things are looking up for me now. I've got some good friends, I'm done dealing with Voldemort, and I just have to get through one more year of school and kill Rabastan Lestrange before I can fade from the public eye and just live my life."

She chose not to voice her surprise that Harry could talk about killing someone so easily. "You must be looking forward to that. Not having to deal people watching your every move."

"More than you know," Harry said, somewhat bitterly. "Sorry," he said suddenly. "I didn't mean to get all weird on you there. Anyways, what were we talking about, again?"

"You were telling me about your godfather," she told him.

"Right," Harry replied, grinning down at her. "Sirius, my godfather, and Remus, my godson's father-"

"You have a godson?" she asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Yeah, Teddy Lupin. I've been visiting him and Andromeda, his grandmother, all summer. Anyways, they were best friends with my dad when they were all in school, and the four of them were them-"

"Four?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair again, which Aderyn had noticed a while ago he did whenever he got nervous or agitated. She was about to apologise, but he started explaining before she could.

"Yeah, there was a fourth. They . . . sort of had a falling out," he muttered. While he acknowledged it as a major understatement, he didn't particularly want to get into the details then and there.

"Anyways," he said again, "while they were at school, they were the greatest pranksters in Hogwarts history. Called themselves 'The Marauders.' Any prank you see someone pull, they did it first."

"Are pranks common here, then?"

"Not so much since the twins left," Harry replied, sounding somewhat bittersweet.

Torn between curiosity and delicacy, Aderyn let that comment slide for the time being, but made a mental note to ask Harry about it later. Preferably when he hadn't been discussing his parents' murders, his presumably orphaned godson, and his dead godfather. Harry, however, saved her the trouble.

"That's right, you wouldn't know about them, would you? Sorry, I keep forgetting that you're new here. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were the best pranksters since Dad and Sirius. They left partway through their seventh year to open a joke shop, but before they left, everybody loved them. George still runs the store over in Diagon Alley.

"Which reminds me, I've been meaning to go over there."

"What for?" Aderyn asked. Harry hadn't really struck her as the prankster type. Mischievous to a point, but not the sort to go around pranking others.

"The twins started developing defense products, almost by accident, for the last war. I'm almost out of Darkness Powder, and I had a little something I wanted George to make for me."

"What's that?" Aderyn asked as the two of them climbed through the portrait hole. As the school year hadn't yet started, there wasn't yet a password for any of the common rooms. Harry, contrary to Aderyn's opinion, had taken the opportunity to sneak into the Slytherin dorms and set up a few surprises for one Draco Malfoy.

Harry grimaced slightly as he led to his favorite group of armchairs by the fire. "Well it's pretty gross, but do you know what a Hand of Glory is?" Aderyn shook her head. "It's a severed hand holding a candle," He said distastefully. Noting Aderyn's disturbed look, he went on. "I know, believe me. We found out about a year ago that they're the only way to light up a space affected by Darkness Powder, so I asked the twins to figure out a way to replicate it. George owled me a few days ago to tell me that he finished it."

"So how'd he do it?" Aderyn asked, curiosity overpowering repulsion.

"He didn't," Harry replied, once again sounding slightly disgusted. "He turned the hand into a pair of goggles, and they'll let me see anywhere, no matter how dark it is, even if someone's using Darkness Powder."

"That's brilliant! So what's the problem?"

"He had to use the hand to make the goggles. They're made out of a dead bloke's hand."

"Right."

"Right."

The two of them talked for a few more hours, but as Harry was an early riser and Aderyn was still somewhat used to New York time (where she had spent the last two weeks of her summer vacation), they both decided to turn in early. Before they did, the two them agreed on a schedule for the next day.

"We need to be here for breakfast and dinner, but they won't mind if we're out at lunchtime," Harry explained. "I'm visiting Teddy and Andy tomorrow for lunch, after that I'll drop by the shop to talk to George.

"You're coming to the shop whether you like it or not," (Harry was only half kidding about this) "but it's up to you if you want to meet Teddy and Andromeda with me."

"You don't think they'd mind if I did?"

"Definitely not," Harry told her sadly. "Andromeda'll welcome any company she can get at the moment, and Teddy's too young to really notice either way. Unless he likes you, then he'll never let you leave if he can help it." Harry grinned, remembering the first time he had met Teddy in person.

It had been a few days after the final battle of the previous war, and Andromeda had already been informed of Remus and Tonks' deaths. As soon as Teddy had seen Harry, his hair turned black, his eyes turned green, and Teddy had grabbed Harry's finger and refused to let it go for several hours. It wasn't until he fell asleep for his nap that Harry was able to escape his death grip, though he had stayed by his side for the rest of the day regardless.

"Anyways," Harry started again, "if you want to come, you're more than welcome."

"I want to meet your godson," Aderyn told him eagerly. "And if his grandmother's cooking is anywhere near as good as you say Mrs Weasley's is . . ."

"Maybe not _that_ good," Harry conceded, "but pretty good all the same. What about the rest of the day?"

"We'll figure that out then, yeah?" Aderyn yawned. Harry wanted to protest, but he was interrupted by a yawn of his own.

"Fine," he sighed. Aderyn's triumphant smirk did little to help the feeling that he had just conceded a point that he perhaps shouldn't have.

* * *

><p>At Aderyn's suggestion, they spent much of the morning after breakfast flying, Aderyn getting a feel for the larger pitch, and Harry getting used to flying cooperatively with her. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she compared favorably to Katie Bell, the chaser with whom he had worked longest, and absolutely blew Demelza Robins, his only chaser at the moment, out of the water.<p>

Andromeda, as Harry had predicted, was more than happy to meet Aderyn. She offered the two of them some wonderful beef wellington and insisted that they both eat three helpings (which she always did whenever Harry came over as a matter of course: like Mrs Weasley, she had taken it upon herself to help him gain the weight that he had lost by living with the Dursleys).

Teddy, when he first saw Aderyn, immediately copied her hair and eye colour, before seeing Harry and changing to copy his, instead. After what looked like a few moments of painful deliberation (insofar as a several month old child can experience it), he settled for copying Aderyn's eyes and Harry's hair. For reasons that the latter didn't understand in the slightest, the former started blushing slightly when she noticed.

Harry found Andromeda's knowing smirks throughout the rest of the visit rather unnerving.

After a few hours with Teddy and Andromeda, Harry and Aderyn used their floo to travel to Diagon Alley.

"You ever been here before?" Harry asked as he tapped a brick wall with his wand, causing the bricks to rearrange themselves so that they formed a door rather than a wall.

"Once," Aderyn replied. "When I was just starting out school. Flackter Alley, that's the magical alley in Wales, didn't have all the basics I needed for school, so my family had to come here to get some of it."

"So Flackter had everything you needed every year after that?"

"Yeah, but the only stuff I ever needed was new books and stuff. We didn't have a uniform at my old school."

"Wish Hogwarts didn't have one," Harry muttered wistfully. "The only reason I can get away with ignoring it is 'cause I'm _me_."

"Why do it, though?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "I mean, why use your fame like that? You _hate_ being famous, so why abuse it?"

"Why not?" Harry shrugged. "I figure I've earned it at this point. After the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the dementor debacle, the TriWizard, Umbridge, and everything last year, I reckon I've earned the right to wear what I want.

"Besides," he added as an afterthought, "I never know when I may get into a fight, and robes are really inconvenient if you're trying to take someone out while trying to keep them from killing you.

"Anyways, you need anything while we're here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Aderyn replied, still taking in what Harry had just said. Mentally shaking her head to clear it, she thought for a moment and said, "I've got all my books, but I might want to restock on potions ingredients, and I'll need a uniform."

"Right then," Harry said decisively, "Madam Malkin's first, since that'll take the longest, then we can go to the apothecary. After that, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Aderyn took a mercifully short time getting her new uniform (she had wanted a new set of dress robes as well, but Harry had discreetly indicated that there was a shop with a better selection in Hogsmeade), and the two were in the apothecary for less than five minutes.

Despite this, they still managed to attract the attention (or, more accurately, _Harry_ managed to attract the attention) of numerous shoppers, which was something of an accomplishment, given that the Alley wasn't particularly busy at this time of year. Most Hogwarts students had already purchased their equipment for the coming year, so the only customers at most of the stores were adults looking for odds and ends.

"I said we're busy!" Harry snapped at one particularly annoying witch a few years younger than him. "Now shove off and don't follow us!"

The witch, whom Harry belatedly recognised as Romilda Vane, who had attempted to use a love potion on him in his sixth year. Ron had accidentally eaten the sweets she had spiked instead, and the whole incident had seemed funny until he had been poisoned. It became even less amusing when Harry had learned about Hermione's duplicity.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Aderyn asked, slightly taken aback by Harry's sudden harshness.

"She tried to use a love potion on me in sixth year," Harry reported, his voice sounding more annoyed with every word. "Ron took the potion by accident, and he got poisoned after that."

Aderyn raised her eyebrows but didn't comment. Harry made enough references to misadventures like this that she was beginning to take them in stride.

"Anyways," Harry said loudly, hoping to broadcast as widely as possible that the two of them were leaving, "let's get going. We still need to get to Flourish and Blotts."

Aderyn took a second to recognise what he was doing and why before nodding. A few minutes later, the two of them found themselves outside of the twins' store, or at least, that's what Harry called it. He still thought of it as belonging to Fred and George collectively, despite the fact that the former had died several months ago.

After fighting their way through the crowds (WWW was the only shop in the Alley to do consistent business until the very end of the summer holidays; the inside was packed with Hogwarts students who seemed to have come to the Alley for no other reason than to browse the twins' wares), Harry and Aderyn found themselves in the backroom.

George had been working there almost exclusively, leaving the floor to a few trustworthy employees, and working hard enough on new inventions to make up for the fact that he was working alone. When he heard the door open, he looked up to see Harry and a girl he didn't recognise.

Grinning, though it was still somewhat forced, he greeted them. "Harry, mate! I've been wondering when you'd drop by. And who're you?" he asked Aderyn, though not unkindly. He knew Harry well enough to know that anyone who he brought to the backroom was a decent person.

"Aderyn Price, I'm transferring to Hogwarts," she replied. George, who had never heard of a transfer student before, frowned slightly but didn't say anything.

"You want the goggles, then?" he asked, turning his attention back to Harry.

Harry grimaced slightly but nodded. George, seeing his reaction, gave a more genuine grin and said, "don't worry, Harry. I transfigured them _from_ the hand. You won't be wearing a dead guy's hand on your face."

Harry slumped in relief, but straightened up almost immediately. "You might've mentioned that in your letter," he said, almost sternly.

George's grin only grew. "I _might_ have, yes."

Harry glared at him for a moment before muttering, "just gimme the damn goggles, mate."

George grinned more widely still as he rose from his seat and walked over to a small box in a corner, out of which he pulled a small package, which seemed to be covered in a white cloth. Throwing the package to Harry, he retook his seat and crossed his legs, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry, meanwhile, was unwrapping the cloth with an enthusiasm that was at complete odds to his previously sour demeanor. Revealing a pair of small, white goggles with a black strap, Harry eagerly placed them on his forehead, covering his bangs and his scar.

"Any chance you'll tell me what you're working on?" he asked hopefully.

George, however, just snorted. "You'll know when it's ready. Don't reckon I'll put it on the shelves until November, but I should finish them mid-October. Hell, I've had the prototype done for a week."

"So you just need to perfect it and mass produce it?" Aderyn asked curiously. She had never been much of an inventor, and didn't really understand how one person working alone could make all the products in the store.

"I've . . . got a few kinks to work out," George said uncomfortably. "I didn't expect it to . . . well, you'll see when it's done."

The two of them prodded him for a while, but might as well have been interrogating his desk for all the information they received. They eventually gave up and headed back into the store proper, Harry leading Aderyn to the section dedicated to defense.

"Shield clothes (they'll block minor spells), decoy detonators (they'll explode and cause a diversion for you if you need it) Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder (my new best friend)," as Harry pointed out the Darkness Powder, he grabbed about half of the total amount for sale. Aderyn's eyes widened slightly, though Harry didn't seem to find anything odd about his purchase.

"I should probably just start buying it in bulk from George's supplier myself," Harry mused.

"Can you afford it?" Aderyn asked skeptically.

"I don't reckon _George_ can afford for me to _not_." Seeing the confused look on Aderyn's face, Harry explained. "I gave him and Fred their starter money, so they never let me pay for anything. I've had to charm and bully three different cashiers into letting me pay, and when they caught wind of what I was doing, they put up a few creative wards to keep me from doing it again."

Aderyn snorted, but said nothing. A while later, the two of them were leaving the store (the twins' wards didn't stop Harry from _trying _to pay for his things, only from actually managing to do so. He and Aderyn spent a good long while at the register) just in time to see a commotion a few doors down at the bookstore.

Harry frowned slightly and looked ahead to see what was going on. "Brilliant," he muttered.

"What is it?" asked Aderyn, who still couldn't see what was going on.

"Snatchers," Harry said, sounding mildly annoyed, as though a battle being waged a few doors down from them was something slightly inconvenient to be taken care of. "You ever been in a battle?" he asked, turning to face Aderyn, who shook her head mutely.

Harry grabbed her hand and apparated the two of them to the gates of Hogwarts. "Go inside the gates and don't come out for anything," he instructed her. "Anyone but me tries to apparate here, stun 'em. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Before Aderyn could process enough of what he had said to offer a protest, he apparated away noiselessly, leaving her confused and concerned at the gates of her new home.

* * *

><p>In the alley, all was chaos. As Harry had frequently observed in past, few witches or wizards had much common sense, so rather than doing the logical thing and apparating away, most everyone who had been there stayed behind to run around in panic.<p>

Harry narrowed his eyes. _Did they learn _anything _from the last war?_ he asked himself rhetorically. Moving into action, Harry snapped his new goggles over his eyes, threw down a small amount of Darkness Powder, just enough to cover the area around Flourish and Blotts, and drew his wand from its holster.

People reacted to his use of the Darkness Powder almost immediately. The (supposedly) law abiding citizens in the alley all began panicking more, seeming to think that the snatchers were the ones using it. The snatchers also started panicking, as they were all well aware that Darkness Powder was widely regarded as Harry's trademark.

Leaping into the middle of the area affected by the Powder (which would have been an incredibly stupid move had it not been for the goggles), Harry began firing an array of curses into the group of snatchers. Nothing he threw was particularly deadly, just a few bone breaking curses, some reductors, a few stunners, a body-bind or two, and the odd incarcerous, but it served his purposes well: he was able to subdue the snatchers he managed to hit without causing untoward damage to any bystanders or property his wayward spells might hit.

After a full minute of Harry dodging curses and sending out his own in retaliation, the Darkness Powder failed. That, Harry reflected, was one of its main weaknesses: if used outdoors, especially during the day, the Powder wouldn't last long, and Harry, trying to keep from hurting the various shoppers, had used much less Powder than he normally would have, hoping to impact the smallest possible area.

When the area outside of Flourish and Blotts was light again, the snatchers all seemed to rally with the realisation that they really only had one opponent, and that his single largest advantage over them, his use of Darkness Powder, was now moot. Harry, who was unwilling to use any more of his newly purchased Powder so soon after buying it, decided that he had had enough playing around.

Most of the shoppers had fled by now, and none of the store owners seemed inclined to help, leaving Harry to deal with the seven remaining snatchers (or rather, the seven snatchers who remained and were in fighting condition) alone and mercifully unencumbered. For the first time since the war had began, Harry was about to cut loose: he had tried it Dumbledore's way, nice and polite, and now it was time to try it his.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted, aiming at the only snatcher who hadn't yet received a single injury over the course of the battle. The snatcher, taken by surprise, was unable to dodge in time, and raised a simple protego, seemingly on instinct.

Harry gave a grim smile as his curse passed through the shield as though it weren't there. Harry turned to another snatcher and tsked at him. "He should have known that you can't shield against the unforgivables, shouldn't he?"

The six remaining snatchers didn't quite know what to do with this: it had been well documented in the _Prophet_, and confirmed by the few who had escaped his raids, that Harry never, _ever_, used deadly force. To see him not only break this rule, but do so casually and immediately act flippant about it, was rather alarming.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur for Harry, which, if he was being honest with himself, he found rather disappointing. It was the first time that Harry had gone all out in a battle since Riddle was killed, and it had been nothing short of exhilarating. Two snapped necks, eight broken limbs, twelve severed appendages, and one particularly nasty curse which caused its victims eyes to grow teeth and eat through his brain later, a very satisfied Harry apparated away, noting, as he did so, the rather pathetic anti-apparition jinxes that the snatchers had set up around the alley.

Bizarrely, Harry's last thought before he appeared in front of the Hogwarts Gates was of Aderyn. "She'll _kill_ me for this. If I get out it alive," he said to the only snatcher still conscious (which Harry rather admired, truth be told: despite the fact that the man's left leg, as well as both of his arms, were broken, he simply refused to black out from the pain), "it'll be a damn miracle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I said next chapter would be longer didn't I? Sorry this took so long to get up, but between a number of things (including problems with my laptop forcing me to use the library computers to write, which have a two-hour-a-day time limit and me focusing on my other story), I haven't had a lot of time to dedicate it lately. Believe me when I say that I would like nothing more than to be able to sit down and write all day, every day, but I don't have that luxury. Also, sorry that this chapter is a little disjointed and weird. That isn't how I intended for it to go, it's just how things had to happen. There was a lot of stuff that I wanted to take care of before the other students started arriving, and I had some trouble mustering up the energy to write the stuff that had to happen before the start of term. I've been really looking forward to the start of the next school year (people's reactions to the new Harry will be entertaining, at least to me), so I'll admit that I haven't been very enthusiastic about this story lately. AND WE STILL AREN'T AT THE START OF THE NEW TERM. Ah well, such is life. Hopefully, the next update will be quicker, though I make no promises (I feel like I'm really starting to get somewhere with my other story, even if that somewhere is Halloween of Harry's first year). <strong>Thanks for reading! Duke out!<strong>**

****AN2: I got a question in a review about Harry's reaction to seeing Romilda Vane, basically saying that Harry's annoyance with her is largely unfounded, and that it seemed like Harry was angry with Ron for being poisoned. What I meant to get across there (and evidently didn't, so thank you Sakura Lisel for pointing it out) is that at first, Harry saw the whole incident as just another of his and Ron's misadventures. It starts off kind of funny, and Harry certainly sees some humor in the situation after Ron takes the antidote Slughorn makes him. But it becomes much more serious when a seemingly innocent situation leads to Ron's near-death and subsequent hospitalization, so Harry looks back on the incident as having been series from the start, even though it really wasn't. He certainly doesn't blame Ron for being poisoned. Also, I'd argue that spiking somebody's food with a love potion is a lot more serious than it would probably seem to someone to whom love potions were commonplace, so Harry's irritation with her would have been justified even if Ron _hadn't_ been poisoned (which really wasn't her fault), but that's neither here nor there. Finally, Harry knows that Voldemort was conceived under the affects of a love potion, and he now knows that somebody whom he trusted implicitly was secretly using one on him for the better part of a year. So really, if anyone's gonna be annoyed at any mention of anything to do with love potions (except for his wonderful cure-all), it's the Harry in this story. Thanks for reading! This time, Duke _really_ out!  
><strong>**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Harry hadn't been wrong: when he got back to Hogwarts, Aderyn was furious with him. It took the rest of the day, as well as pointing out repeatedly that she had never been in a fight for her life before and wasn't emotionally prepared to be in one before she finally calmed down somewhat.<p>

"How can you _stand_ it?" Aderyn demanded when they were back in the Gryffindor common room. "How can you just run into danger like that without even thinking about it?"

Harry looked out the window and sighed. "It's not about how I can do it. It's about how I can keep myself from doing it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"For one thing, people are always telling me that I have a 'saving people thing.'"

"You mean like a savior complex?"

"I guess that's a good word for it," Harry agreed. "But there's more than that. I _like_ fighting. And I'm damn good at it. I don't mean to sound full of myself or anything, but I can work curses that most adults have never _heard_ of."

"So if that happened again . . ."

"I'd do the same thing again, and I wouldn't regret it. Most people here, they just can't defend themselves. You saw what they were like: a few snatchers and they all ran instead of working together to take them out. As much as I hate it, they _need_ me."

"But I thought you said-"

"I like fighting, yeah, and I prefer to fight alone, but I hate that they depend on me like this. There's no reason they can't stick up for themselves, is there? But no, instead, they all wait for _me_ to step in and save their asses. _The Boy Who Lived_." By the end of his speech, Harry's voice was dripping derision.

Aderyn turned and faced the fire. "Yesterday, I never would have thought . . . It's like you have two different personalities to you. There's the normal teenager I had fun with yesterday and today, and the bitter cynic ranting at me now."

Harry slumped in his chair. "I'm sorry, Aderyn. I really am. I hate being like this; I wish more than anything that I could be normal. But as long as they put me on this pedestal, I can't be."

"Don't apologise to me. You haven't really done anything wrong, I guess. It's just weird, is all."

"Well, if you want to be friends with me, that's just something you'll have to get used to. If you can't-"

"Please shut up, Harry." Harry flinched slightly, but he didn't interrupt. "I like being with you, and I want to be your friend, but I need to know something. The way you were yesterday and earlier today . . . was it a facade, or is that really a part of you?"

"That was genuine," Harry said slowly. "But so's this. Like I said, I just want to be normal, but I can't help but be bitter about everything."

Aderyn seemed to consider this for a moment before she next spoke. "Well, I guess I'll just have to fix that. Goodnight, Harry." She walked over to his armchair and kissed him on the cheek before walking up to the girls' dormitory. Harry just sat there in shock, not having any idea how to respond. An offer of friendship, he could deal with, but her telling him that she would work through all the things that he was bitter over, _then_ kiss him on the cheek? He hadn't been expecting that at all.

While Aderyn lay awake upstairs, thinking about what she and Harry had talked about, Harry sat in the common room, trying to convince himself that his feelings towards Aderyn were entirely platonic. They had, after all, just met. Harry wasn't really sure that he was ready to enter into a new relationship so soon after everything that happened with Ginny. Harry would be too busy this year to pursue one anyways, even without being quidditch captain.

The facts that Aderyn was nice, funny, smart, beautiful, and more understanding with him than people who had known him for seven years were of no consequence. Granted, when the other boys got to school, they were likely to pick up on these qualities as well, and Harry, as a concerned friend, would have to help keep them at bay. Not out of jealousy, but because it was simply the right thing to do. Or at least, that was what he told himself as he drifted off to sleep in his armchair.

* * *

><p>For the rest of the week, Harry was too busy to see much of Aderyn, which he was beginning to seriously regret. Between helping to pick out a new Defense professor (they eventually settled on Hawkes Hawlish, one of the aurors who had attacked McGonagall and Hagrid under Umbridge's command in Harry's fifth year), planning the curriculum for defense class, going on two more raids of snatcher hideouts, and learning about what his duties as head boy would entail, Harry was busier than he had been since his OWL year.<p>

"I might have to give up quidditch at this rate," Harry muttered, slumped over the desk in his office. "I can't do all this at once without exploding."

Aderyn, who was lounging on the couch, laughed. "You can't give up quidditch, Ron would kill you. And once term starts, you won't have to go on raids or help hire new professors."

"Yeah," Harry replied half-heartedly. "Just have to teach classes, play quidditch, run the war, do head boy stuff, and deal with fangirls. Can't wait."

"What about your classes? Don't forget homework from them."

Harry gave a weak chuckle. "I'm not getting homework for any of them. Special permission from McGonagall, since I'm teaching my own class. And we already learned most of the seventh year curriculum last year when we were on the run. Classes'll be easy, it's _teaching_ that I'm worried about."

"Even though you've done it before?"

"Yeah, well, everyone thought I was a nutter back then, didn't they? Less pressure. Now that everyone knows I'm not mad, and now that they all think I'm the second coming of Merlin, it'll be murder. I'd take a fight to the death with a dark wizard over that any day."

"Well, you can have the head girl do most of the work, so really it's just teaching, quidditch, and the war, right?"

Harry groaned and sat up. "And the fangirls. They may not be able to use love potions on me anymore, but that doesn't stop them from following me around or fawning over me." He dropped back onto the desk in defeat, sighing heavily. "Wish they'd bother someone else."

Aderyn just laughed. "Do you have any idea how few boys would be complaining about a bunch of pretty girls following them around, hanging on their every word, and trying to get them in bed?"

Harry paled slightly. "I hadn't thought of that last one. Ballocks. Besides, it's not like they really care about _me_, they're just interested in the hero the _Prophet's_ made me out to be." He sighed again. "S'always me, innit? They could just as easily follow Ron around. Or hell, even Neville."

"So you're really not interested in taking advantage of the situation at all?" Aderyn asked carefully. Something in her tone made Harry slightly nervous, but he didn't quite know what to do, other than just running away.

"'Course not. I'm not after a shallow relationship. If I start dating again, it'll be with someone who cares about _me_, someone I can have a good time with without worrying about whether all she cares about is my money or social standing." _Someone like you,_ Harry was hardly able to stop himself from adding.

Harry couldn't see it since he was still lying on the desk, but Aderyn couldn't quite help the satisfied grin that spread across her face when Harry answered.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, hoping to move on from the dangerous subjects they had been discussing.

"6:15," Aderyn replied, looking at her watch.

"Carriages'll be here in 45 minutes," Harry muttered. "Better head down to the great hall soon. Might fall asleep if I stay here any longer."

"Why not take a nap?" Aderyn yawned.

"We'd never wake up in time for the feast. Fine way to introduce you to the Hogwarts rumor mill."

"What, you mean having the most famous student and some random transfer missing at the same time?"

"Hmm," Harry agreed. He tried to sit up again, but couldn't bring himself to. "Maybe a short nap," he conceded.

Neither of them made it to the welcoming feast that night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There we are, chapter five. Fluffy, short, and not very good. But kind of necessary, since I needed to develop Harry and Aderyn's relationship to the point where them continuing to be friends would actually make sense. I kind of jumped into this without thinking, figuring that I could work out the plot as I go. While I still intend to do that, I kind of realised at the end of the last chapter that Harry being as bitter as he needs to be for this story to work makes it difficult for any girl to actually want to be in a real relationship with him (hero warship of the kind he gets in HBP doesn't count), so I figured I kind of needed this to act as a buffer between the summer and the school year. Think of it as an interquel between the prologue and the main story, if that makes any sense. Not that I consider chapters one through four to be an extended prologue, but they kind of are if you think about it.<br>**

**I'd love to say that updates will be more frequent, but I can't really promise that. Now that I've moved on to the point that I was most interested in writing, I really want to devote more energy to this story. Unfortunately for me, I'm currently actively writing _four_ other series, two with seven stories, one with five stories, and one with three, so yeah. Kinda busy. I'm actually kind of considering putting my crackfic, Intoxicated Decision Makers, up for adoption, since I'm finding it a lot harder and much less rewarding to write than I thought it would be. And, as much as I hate to even consider it, I have to wonder about having somebody ghost write this story for me, since it would cut down on my (self-imposed) workload considerably. Ah well, whatever happens, I don't intend to outright abandon any of my stories (even if I have to put one on hiatus for a year or two, which I'm considering). As always, thanks for reading. Duke out!**

**PS: I keep forgetting to mention this because it's a really minor detail that isn't particularly important, but in this, Harry started wearing contact lenses after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, which is the earliest point where my story diverges from cannon.**


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